


The Hydra Job

by DizzyRedhead



Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Background Parker/Hardison/Eliot, Background Sam Wilson - Freeform, Background Thor - Freeform, Crossover, Darcy Lewis-centric, Dubcon if you squint, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Mission Fic, Mutual Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, but they could totally get out of it if they wanted to, sort of canon compliant, they just don't want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyRedhead/pseuds/DizzyRedhead
Summary: Set between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Avengers: Age of UltronDarcy was happy to take a break from scientist wrangling to help out Thor's friend Steve. Even if that means pretending to be his wife. Hey, making out with Captain America isn't exactly a hardship. Even if Sam does keep giving her shit about it. And you never know when you might find unexpected allies...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aenaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/gifts).



> Many thanks first of all to Aenaria, who has been waiting patiently for LITERALLY MONTHS as I figured out what the fuck I was doing with this story. You are the best and I hope this is something like what you wanted. 
> 
> Thanks also to RembrandtsWife and Abish for helping me think through what I was doing here and to ahausonfire for helping me get unstuck with the ending and push through!!! And to Meri, whose ["spiked heels"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/692324) was both my gateway into shipping Darcy and Steve and a big inspiration for the sexytimes
> 
> Also! I tagged for dubcon just to be on the safe side, but IMO it's not actually dubcon? Check the endnotes for a more spoilery warning.

“Someone’s watching us,” Steve says under his breath, still smiling adoringly down at her.

“Are you sure?” Darcy asks, distracted by arm wrapped around her, warm through the red satin of her evening gown. 

Pretending to be married to--and insanely attracted to--Steve Rogers isn’t exactly the hardest job she’s ever had. You know, aside from the way he won’t stop touching her in public, keeping her in a constantly-simmering state of arousal. Or the way he keeps a careful distance between them in private, leaving her perpetually frustrated. Her vibrator hasn’t seen this much use in literally  _ years. _

She drags her mind forcibly back to the business at hand. “Never mind, that was a dumb question. Of course you’re sure.”

He laughs like she said something funny, his fingers tightening on her waist, and leans down to press his lips just under her ear. Darcy tells her legs very firmly that this is not the time to go weak. They don’t listen.

“See that man by the bar? Longish light brown hair, glasses?” Steve’s breath raises goosebumps on her neck and Darcy can’t help but shiver as she looks over his shoulder, trying to act casual. 

“Him?” she asks when she finally sees the man fitting Steve’s description. “Didn’t we get introduced to him? Dr. Something-or-Other? Oh, wait, that was Sam, you were mingling.”

Steve made a vague noise of assent. “If he’s a doctor, medical or otherwise, I’ll eat my shield. He’s former military.”

Darcy bites her lip before she can ask if he’s sure again. Steve’s been very good about explaining himself, making her feel included when basically she’s a glorified beard in this situation, playing the young, ditzy trophy wife so Steve can look for information about Bucky. He doesn’t need her second-guessing him all the time  “He didn’t seem like former military,” she offers, her voice hesitant. 

Steve shrugs, turning back toward the room and letting his arm slide around her waist, pulling her into his side. “After awhile, you get to where you can recognize them by the way they stand. It’s a very--”

* * *

“--distinctive stance,” Eliot growls under his breath, doing his best to keep a blandly pleasant look on his face. “I don’t know if the woman’s in on it, but the husband was Army and his ‘business partner’ was Air Force. Probably paratrooper, if I had to guess.”

“Man, I’m not gonna bet against you at this point,” Hardison says over the comms, a smile in his voice. “The question is, are they a part of Church’s organization? Or do we have another set of players?”

Eliot frowns. “The wife said they’re looking to invest. And a lot of other things. Couldn’t hardly get her to shut up. So either they’re already Hydra, or they’re looking to get involved.”

“They might just be wanting a regular investment,” Parker says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “Solin is pretty profitable.”

Hardison and Eliot snort at the same time. “They might. And Jabba the Hutt might have been a legitimate entrepreneur,” Hardison says, his tone even more skeptical.

“If we assume they’re innocent and they’re not, we might miss something,” Eliot points out. “Better to be prepared.”

Parker lets out the little breath that means she’s made a decision. “Can you follow them when they leave?”

“No problem,” he says easily. 

* * *

Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket as soon as they’re settled in the car and frowns at the screen. “Somebody’s got a tracking device on one of us,” he says. “It just activated, or JARVIS would’ve caught it sooner.”

“Shit,” Sam says softly. 

Darcy definitely doesn’t squeak as Steve picks up her hand and pushes her wrap aside, running his fingers lightly up her bare arm. Definitely not. “What--what are you doing?”

“They would’ve tried to get the tracker on bare skin,” Sam explains as Steve turns her arm over, his hands gentle on the sensitive skin of her wrist, the inside of her elbow, before moving higher. “So it would stay with us, even if we change clothes.”

“And you had the most skin showing,” Steve says absently, his hands moving up toward her shoulder.

Darcy does her best not to shiver under his touch, or at the thought that Steve noticed how much skin she had showing, but Sam’s smirking at her in a way that says she’s not fooling him. She checks to make sure Steve’s not looking before she rolls her eyes at Sam, barely resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. “Remind me to complain later about the ridiculous gendering of standard formal wear,” she says, proud that her voice stays normal despite the brush of Steve’s fingertips across her collarbone. 

He hesitates for just a moment and Darcy can’t breathe as she waits for his hands to move downward, toward the incredibly low-cut neckline of her red gown. They go up, instead, his eyes downcast to follow their path, and she can practically feel his gaze like a second touch on her skin. Clearly the whole situation is affecting her more than she thought, because she’s thinking in ridiculous cliches. As soon as this is over, she needs to go out and get hella laid.

“Got it!” he says, peeling a tiny, nearly invisible dot off of the place where her neck flows into her shoulder. He holds it up triumphantly.

It’s only then that Darcy realizes how close his face is to hers, barely inches away. She can’t help licking her lips as his gaze drops to her mouth, holding her breath.

Sam clears his throat across from them, breaking the spell. They shift apart, turning toward him and Steve drops the tracker in the bottle of water Sam twists open.

“Will that stop it?” Darcy asks. She realizes that she’s rubbing at the spot where the tracker had been and forces her hand down to her lap.

Steve taps at his phone screen for a minute. “Yeah, JARVIS says it’s no longer transmitting.”

She sags back into her seat in relief, doing her best to ignore the warmth of Steve’s leg where it brushes against hers. “Cool.”

* * *

“The tracker just went offline,” Hardison reports. “That’s the bad news. The good news is that I’m very, very good at what I do, and I’ve got ‘em on traffic cameras. Looks like they’re heading to the Heathman. Must be nice to have a lot of money.”

“You have enough money to live at the Heathman for the rest of your life if you wanted to,” Eliot answers, climbing behind the wheel of the little sports car Hardison had rented (probably rented) for him. “I’m on my way back. We’ll need a plan.”

The smile in Parker’s voice is audible even over the comms. “One step ahead of you.”

“Dinner first,” Hardison interrupts. “I’m starving. Had to watch you eat all those fancy canapes and shit, all the while I’m stuck here with nothing but orange soda and funyuns.”

Eliot rolls his eyes. “I left a bowl of pasta in the fridge.”

“That was lunch. That was hours ago, man. Try to keep up. I’m a growing boy, I need regular meals…”

Hardison’s voice stays in his ear the entire drive back to the brewpub, flitting from subject to subject at a moment’s whim. Eliot doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t enjoy it.

* * *

“Dr. Spencer Ford is an alias,” JARVIS’s voice reports from the phone. “I have yet to discover his true identity. I have found a number of other aliases associated with that face, but the security surrounding him is quite impressive. While I could break through using a brute force approach, it would undoubtedly set off alarms. But I can tell you that whoever you saw at that party, he is not Dr. Spencer Ford.”

Darcy looks up at Steve. “Hydra?” 

“I think we have to assume that,” Steve says slowly. “The question is, did he make us?”

“If he’d made us, we’d already have Hydra goons busting down the door,” Sam points out. “But someone’s suspicious. Do we call it?”

Steve shakes his head, his jaw set stubbornly. “No, not yet. Not if there’s still a chance.”

Sam sighs. “Okay. What’s the dumbass plan this time, Cap?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve says slowly. “JARVIS--”

“My friends!” Thor interrupts, bursting through the door of the hotel suite like the otherworldly hurricane that he is. “I have acquired sustenance! How fared your mission?”

Sam snagged one of the bags of food from Thor and settled down at the little table in the kitchenette. “We’ve hit a snag.” 

“I may be able to be of some assistance--” JARVIS interjects. “I’ve located camera footage of a man whose facial features are a match to the man posing as Dr. Ford. He seems to frequent the area around the Bridgeport Brewery, based on the footage and the fact that he appears in the background of a number of photos taken in the Brewery and posted on social media.”

“Okay,” Steve nods. “Here’s the plan…”

* * *

The tap on the French doors makes Darcy jump approximately six feet off the couch, even though she’s been hoping for it for almost two hours. She hasn’t been able to relax since Steve, Sam and Thor headed out to investigate and her nerves have been ratcheting steadily tighter with each moment of silence.

Once she remembers how to breathe, she makes her way over, pulling the curtains back. Thor smiles at her from the other side, no visible wounds, but she still can’t quite relax as she fumbles with the lock.

“Is everything okay?” she asks as soon as she pulls the door open.

“All is well, lightning sister,” Thor says reassuringly. “No one is injured, and we have found new allies in our quest! Steven sent me to bring you to their headquarters so that we may all plan together!”

Darcy steps back, letting him in and turning toward her suitcase. “Okay, give me a minute to get changed.”

She loves flying with Thor, but experience has taught her that it gets chilly, even at low altitudes, so she pulls jeans on over her leggings and adds a sweater and cardigan over her tank top. She tames her hair back into a quick braid; not that half of it won’t come loose in the air, but combing snarls out of half of her curls is better than having to do all of them.

Grabbing her beanie and tucking the braid up under it, she shoves her feet into her boots. “Ready,” she announces. 

“Excellent!” Thor booms, leading the way back out to the small balcony and pulling her close with an arm around her waist. “Let us be off!”

Darcy buries her face in his chest as they lift off. It’s just as amazing as the first time, like flying in dreams, except the cool air rushing past feels more real than any dream she’s ever had. She watches the lights of the city move past under them, people and cars made tiny by their altitude. Thor is taking it slow, in deference to her mortal-ness, but all too soon they’re touching lightly down on a patio full of tables with umbrellas outside a brick building. 

“They actually work in a brewpub?” Darcy asks, catching the logo on the door that Thor holds open for her. The inside is really nice; exposed brick, high ceilings. Casual, but classy. “Any chance of a beer?”

“Sure,” the guy behind the bar says. Darcy blinks rapidly; Dr. Ford, or whatever his name actually is, looks a hell of a lot better in a tight-black t-shirt and jeans than he did in a tux, and that’s saying something. His arms are almost on par with Steve’s, and she’s been up close and personal with Steve’s arms for the better part of a week.

“Just don’t try any of Hardison’s experimental brews; I’m not a hundred percent sure they’re not poisonous,” the man says, smiling at her like he doesn’t mind her incredibly obvious once-over, “I’m Eliot.”

Darcy can’t help smiling back; after dealing with Steve blowing hot and cold on her for the past week, this kind of flirting feels nice. Easy. “Darcy. Definitely not one of those, then. What would you recommend?”

An ostentatiously cleared throat has Darcy turning to see Steve standing in an open door at the end of the bar, his arms crossed, giving her the Disapproving Eyebrows of Freedom. “If you’d like to join us?”

“Sure,” Eliot says easily, pulling a beer from one of the taps. “Be right there. You want a beer, man?”

“No. Thanks.” Steve says shortly. He stays planted in the doorway, the frown lines deepening between his eyebrows. 

Darcy has always been contrary; just ask all of her middle school teachers. This is something she accepts about herself. So she leans on the bar when Eliot slides the glass over to her, takes a sip and smiles at him, pointedly ignoring the slab of disapproving beefcake to her right. “Nice choice.”

“Thank you,” Eliot says. He comes around the end of the bar and offers her another smile and his arm. “Shall we?”

She picks up her beer and tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s shall.”

For a minute she’s afraid Steve will stay planted in the doorway, leaving them to bounce off like bullets off the Hulk, but he grudgingly backs into the room and lets them pass. Eliot ushers her in ahead of him with a hand on the small of her back that, based on the twinkle in his eyes, is almost entirely intended to troll Steve. Darcy can’t help but approve.

The back room is even more impressive than the main part of the pub, full of sleek tech that reminds her of Jane’s lab in Stark Tower, if slightly less advanced. Which makes sense, for people without Tony Stark’s limitless resources.

The petite blonde perched on the end of the light-up desk spots Darcy and Eliot and sighs overdramatically, her eyes amused. “Another one?”

The black man sitting behind the desk, his hand resting lightly on her knee, follows the direction of her gaze and echoes the sigh. “Eliot. Babe. We’ve talked about this. A girlfriend is a big responsibility.”

“Yeah, man,” Sam chimes in from the other end of the desk, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “You have to take them on dates and support them emotionally.”

“I’m worried this is going to cut into  _ us _ time,” the other man says, batting his eyes at Eliot. “Is it because I’m getting older? I’m not exciting enough for you anymore?”

Steve makes a little growling noise under his breath. “This is Darcy. She’s posing as my wife, which we discussed literally twenty minutes ago.”

“Hi,” Darcy says, wiggling her fingers at the new people and pointedly not looking at Steve. “Darcy Lewis, official beard. I don’t superhero but I can do general data entry, light hacking, and coffee runs.”

“I’m Parker,” the blonde says, smiling back. “I steal stuff. Hardison hacks things, too.”

Darcy blinks fast. “Alec Hardison? You hacked the White House.”

Hardison’s grin gets wider, realer. “I mean, among other things. Wait, Lewis? Didn’t you hack SHIELD?” He turns to Parker without waiting for an answer. “Can we keep her, babe?”

“I didn’t get all the way in before they kicked me out,” Darcy demurs, feeling her cheeks heat.

“Still, mad props,” Hardison says, offering his fist. “SHIELD is legit. Well. Was.”

Darcy can feel rather than see Steve’s flinch. She awkwardly bumps her fist against Hardison’s. 

“Anyway,” Parker says, picking up a tiny device from the desktop and nodding Darcy into a seat.. “We have a common target, and complementary goals. We want to expose Peter Church’s Hydra ties; not having his money to bankroll them will be a serious hit to their bottom line. You want access to some Hydra files in his possession.” Pictures of Church flash up on the wall screen. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Steve agrees, his arms still crossed across his chest when Darcy sneaks a look at him. On anyone else, she would have had to call his expression a pout. “It makes sense to pool our resources.”

Parker smiles like a shark, all teeth and menace. “Excellent,” she says. “Eliot was supposed to slip away during the fundraiser and find us a way in, but you already have an established cover. So here’s what we do…”

* * *

_ The next day _

Hardison sits back in his seat, huffing out a frustrated breath. The room seems strangely silent without his fingers tapping on the keyboard. “Well, shit.”

“No luck?” Sam asks, looking up from his phone

“I mean, I’m in their network, because I’m very good at what I do,” Hardison says. “But it looks like the only thing they keep on that network are their legit business files. There’s a couple of borderline deals, but nothing Hydra-related.”

Steve frowns. Darcy does her best to keep her eyes on the computer screen in front of her, but even out of the corner of her eye she can see that he’s all sweaty from sparring with Thor and Eliot. She does  _ not  _ need a good look at that. Like staring directly into the sun, it can’t possibly end well. “So what’s our next move?”

“Welllll…” Hardison draws it out. “Did I mention that I’m very good at what I do?”

“Yes,” Eliot, Parker, Sam, and Darcy all chorus.

Hardison smirks. “So there’s this floor in the Solin headquarters that has no network connections at all. I don’t know about y’all, but that seems suspicious to me.”

“A separate intranet for just that floor?” Darcy asks, spinning around in her chair.

He shoots finger guns in her direction. “That’s what I’d bet on.”

“So how do we get in?” Eliot and Steve ask at the same time.

“We’ll have to be on-site,” Parker says, staring off into the distance. “We can use your investor cover. You’ll request a tour; you want to see what your money will be going toward. I’ll come with you as your accountant and find a way to slip off and get into that floor. Hardison can direct me through getting the files, and we get out with Hydra none the wiser.”

The furrows in Steve’s forehead deepen. “What if it doesn’t work? What if they make you?”

“Then we regroup and go to Plan M,” Parker says, her smile as sharp as the tiny knife that materializes in her hands, flipping it end-over-end absenty.

“Hey!” Hardison protests. “We talked about this, babe. I die in Plan M.”

Parker rolls her eyes. “Not in my Plan M. Not unless you keep stealing the covers.”

“I still think--” Steve starts, but Sam interrupts him.

“Steve, you go in there punching and throwing the shield and you’ll never see those files. They’ll wipe everything. That’s the whole reason we came up with this cover in the first place, remember?”

The way Steve sags back in his chair makes Darcy want to get up and give him a hug. But they’re not even friends. Not really. She shoves her hands into her cardigan pockets just to be on the safe side.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says finally. “Guess I’m just not used to being the decoy.”

“You’re also the backup,” Parker points out. “If something goes wrong, you’ll get plenty of chances to throw punches. The two of you and Thor and Eliot will have to get us out if they make us.”

Eliot nods. “Bodyguards?”

“No one looks twice at the help,” Parker confirms. “Thor, you think you can handle it?”

“Certainly!” Thor booms. “I served guard duty many times in my youth.”

Eliot winces a little at the volume. “Maybe just...don’t talk, okay?”

* * *

“Darcy, you’re with me,” Parker says, sweeping through the main office area.

“...Okay,” Darcy says, pushing back from the computer that Hardison is letting her use and following the other woman up the stairs. 

The room Parker leads her to has better security than Darcy’s seen since she left the Tower; palm-plate, voiceprint, retinal scanner, a manually entered 12-digit passcode, and probably about 5 other things that she didn’t notice.

“This place has more security than Fort Knox,” Darcy says once they’re finally inside the surprisingly normal-looking, albeit mostly empty room.

Parker sniffs. “Amateurs. I broke into Fort Knox when I was fifteen. Not actually that cool, which was disappointing. I mean, gold is shiny and all, but so heavy. Give me a nice pile of cash or a numbered bank account any day.”

“Fair enough. So, uh, what am I doing here?” Darcy asks, glancing around. It looks like a generic guest room/office--bland, beige walls, a desk and bed that look like they came from Ikea.

“You’re my backup,” Parker says.

Darcy blinks. “Say what?”

“We need a reason for me to not stay with Steve and Sam during the tour,” Parker explains, doing something that makes an entire section of the wall slide back to reveal a truly ridiculous amount of equipment. “So you’re going to come down with a sudden case of severe menstrual cramps. Steve will ask if there’s someplace quiet you can rest and tell me to stay with you. I’ll complain that I’m not a babysitter, he’ll insist, and then we’ll sneak off to get the files.”

“Does it have to be cramps?” Darcy complains. “It’s so...stereotypical.”

Parker smiles, wide and terrifying. “Exactly. Cis men, and the management at Solin are mostly cis men, are terrified by menstruation because they don’t understand it. It also grosses them out. It’s the best ammunition we have. Damn right we’re using it.”

“Okay,” Darcy says slowly, turning that logic over in her head and finding no flaws in it. “But why am I your backup instead of your excuse to sneak off and do your thing?”

“Because Hardison needs to stay here and coordinate.” Parker tosses something rectangular at Darcy, who fumbles it for a few terrifying seconds before securing her hold. “I may need someone with better computer skills than mine to get those files off their network, which means you’re on deck. Take this.”

She shoves the latest-generation Stark-Tab at Darcy, forcing her to briefly juggle the two objects in her hands before setting them carefully down on the bed.  

When she looks back up, Parker is staring at her, or more specifically, her boobs, with the kind of focus Darcy hasn’t seen since she first started--ahem--developing. “My eyes are up here,” she jokes.

“You’re what, a double-D?” Parker asks, turning back to her her little cubbyhole.

“Triple, actually,” Darcy admits.

Parker nods, thoughtfully, her hands sliding lovingly over her equipment as she makes selections. “Nice. That’s going to come in handy. I can barely smuggle a pocketknife in my bra.”

Darcy plops down on the bed and resigns herself to fishing a ridiculous amount of things out of her top. “So, um…”

She trails off, not quite sure how to phrase her question and suddenly embarrassed by how nosy it is.

“What?” Parker asks without looking away from what she’s doing.

“Are you and Hardison and Eliot--”

Parker’s mouth curls up in a tiny smirk. “Together? Dating? Fucking? Yeah.”

“That’s...that’s really great,” Darcy says. She means it. She hasn’t known them long, but the three of them fit together with the kind of seamlessness that reminds her of her parents’ relationship, the way they accommodate each other without ever having to ask.

None of that explains why she bursts into tears unexpectedly. 

At least Parker’s uncomfortable reaction is unsurprising. “Do you want me to...get somebody?” she asks, inching toward the door. “Hardison is really good at being cried on, and Eliot gives good hugs. Or I could get Sam or Steve or Thor?” 

“No, no,” Darcy says hurriedly, swallowing hard and wiping her eyes. “I’m--I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m just--this is all--”

She has to stop talking for a minute and concentrate on holding back the tears. Parker sits gingerly on the bed next to her and, after a moment’s hesitation, pats her shoulder gently. 

“I was in college,” Darcy says. “The biggest thing I had to worry about was whether or not my meal plan would run out before the end of the semester. Okay, and crippling student loan debt, but hey, welcome to the millennial struggle. And now it’s four years later and I’m friends with a freaking Norse god and pretending to be married to Captain America to infiltrate a business that’s helping Hydra and I still don’t have a degree and it’s a lot, okay? Especially since he doesn’t even like me!”

“Steve?” Parker asks, forgetting to pat as her forehead wrinkles in confusion. 

Darcy nods, trying to channel her irritation to hold the tears at bay but only meeting with mixed success. “I mean, I know I’m not like a SHIELD agent or whatever, but it’s not my fault I don’t know ten ways to kill a man with my pinky toe. I’m doing the best I can.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t like you?” Parker looks like a particularly confused bird.

“Um.” Darcy is momentarily struck speechless as she tries to determine which example to point out first. “He keeps at least five feet between us at all times unless we’re in character and he growls at me or makes the disapproving eyebrows whenever I talk. Sometimes he won’t even look at me!”

Parker purses her lips. “He’s looking at you all the time. Anytime you aren’t looking.”

The little flutter of hope in Darcy’s stomach is entirely too excited. “Really?”

The other woman nods. “And he only growls or makes the eyebrows if you’re talking to Eliot or Sam. Sometimes Hardison. He doesn’t mind if you talk to me or Thor.”

“Oh,” Darcy says. Her mind is spinning. “Um. I need to think about this.”

“Sure,” Parker says briskly, relief written in every line of her body as she moves away. “So how much do you think you can fit in your bra? Do we have time to sew hidden pockets?”

* * *

They’re halfway back to the hotel when Hardison says “Uh, so, we have a problem,” through the earbuds he gave them, making Darcy sit up out of her relaxed slouch in the passenger seat and Steve straighten behind the wheel.

“What’s up?” she asks as Steve curses under his breath, steering around a car that decides to brake suddenly right in front of them.

“Well, it seems like maybe somebody at Solin isn’t completely sold  on your cover,” Hardison says, his voice a little hesitant. “They got somebody in your suite to plant bugs. And I mean a  _ lot _ of bugs. Probably checking you out before the tour tomorrow.”

Steve lets out an explosive breath as he finally found a clear spot in traffic. “So we stay in character for the bugs. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Hardison says. “These people think you’re newlyweds, remember? They’re going to expect you to be all over each other as soon as you get in there, since Sam’s not with you. If you’re not, they’re gonna smell a rat.”

Darcy can feel her cheeks heating. She resolutely avoids meeting Steve’s eyes. 

“No,” Steve grits out.

“I can fuzz the video on the cameras in the bedroom, make it look like a malfunction,” Hardison hastens to explain. “All they’ll see is a blur, kind of like me without my contacts. Just, you know, get the motion going, make the sounds convincing. Easy.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest again, but Darcy holds up a hand. “Give us a minute, okay, Hardison?” she says.

Without waiting for a response, she pops her earbud out, then reaches over to do the same to Steve. “We’re doing this,” she says, her voice calm and even. Rational. Adult.

“Darcy--” he starts. Now that she’s looking at him, she can see the flush on top of his cheekbones. “We...I...You’ve already done so much. I can’t ask you to--”

“You didn’t,” she counters. “I’m offering. We’re doing this. And then tomorrow we’re going to go in there and get those files. Otherwise, whenever you end up finding Bucky, and it’s going to take longer without the files, I’m going to tell him about that time you jumped out of a plane without a parachute.”

He gapes at her. 

“Good? Good.” She smiles sweetly at him and pops his earbud back in before re-inserting her own. Maybe she lets her fingers brush over his ear and down his neck, just to see him shiver. She’s only human. “Okay, Hardison. Go ahead and fuzz the bedroom bug now so they don’t connect it with us coming in. And I swear if I find out that you recorded any of this, watched it, or listened to it in any way, I will get Parker to help me plan my revenge.”

“You don’t gotta get nasty,” Hardison grumbles petulantly over the comms. “A ‘please’ woulda been nice.”

Darcy smiles thinly, even though he can’t see it. “Just making sure we understand each other. Steve and I will be leaving our comms in the car; no point in tempting us to talk to you where their bugs might pick it up.”

“Good thinking,” Hardison admits grudgingly. “You sure you don’t want a job? Some of these cons really aren’t meant to be run with just three people.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m good.” Darcy settles back into her seat, doing her best to mentally prepare for what’s about to come. For all her bravado, she hasn’t had to pretend to make out with someone since high school.

All too soon, they’re pulling up to the hotel, tucking their earbuds in the glove compartment before turning the car over to the valet. Steve wraps an arm around her shoulders as they walk inside, his fingers brushing teasingly over her arm.

He switches to toying with the ends of her hair as they wait for the elevator, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “If I do anything--If you need me to stop doing anything, we need a signal.”

Darcy hums consideringly, sliding her hand up his chest. “How about I tap out?” she asks, tapping his chest three times in quick succession.

“That works,” he agrees, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear.

The conversation is cut short by the ding of the arriving elevator. They step aside for the people getting off, then move inside just before the doors slide shut, thankfully alone. 

“Well,” Steve says, squaring his shoulders. “May as well make it look good.”

That’s the only warning she gets before he slides a hand into her hair and pulls her into a scorching kiss. They’ve kissed before, while playing these roles, but Darcy’s last coherent thought is that Steve’s been holding out on her, because none of those times were anything like this. He licks into her mouth like he has every right to be there, sure and confident of his welcome. 

His other hand pulls her closer until she’s plastered up against him, not even an inch of space between their bodies. She’s gasping for air by the time they separate, blindsided by the force of his kiss and the waves of arousal rolling through her body. 

“I’m going to--to say some things while we’re in there. For our cover,” Steve says, nuzzling against her neck. “But I--it’s not real, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy repeats dumbly, trying to figure out what he means with the two brain cells that remain functional. 

Before either of them can say any more, the elevator doors open and Steve tows her toward their suite, unlocking it with his key card and ushering her inside with one firm hand on the small of her back.

As soon as the door closes behind them, he’s pressing  up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her back into his body. He kisses the side of her neck and she shivers and sighs. For their audience.

“We have the place to ourself for a few hours,” she says archly, tipping her head back to give him better access. “Whatever will we do?”

“I saw the way that bartender was looking at you,” Steve growls, his teeth nipping lightly at her neck. 

Darcy’s eyes widen in real surprise, but she knows a cue when she hears one. “And I saw that waitress slip you her number,” she retorts, wriggling free of his grasp and walking further into the room. “I’m here with you, Steve. Not with any bartender.”

“Damn right,” he agrees roughly, spinning her around and pressing her back against the wall. “You’re mine.”

He kisses her breathless before she can make a response, his hands sliding possessively over her body. She squeaks in surprise when he lifts her up, clinging to his shoulders for dear life and wrapping her legs instinctively around his waist, but he doesn’t stop kissing her. They haven’t even gotten their clothes off yet and she’s already more turned on than she was at any point in her last sexual encounter--he rolls his hips, the thick line of his erection grinding between her legs, and she loses her train of thought entirely.

Her head falls back against the wall as he starts to work his way down her neck, exploring with lips and teeth and tongue until he finds the spots that make her moan or sigh or dig her fingers into his shoulders. He takes his time, undoing her blouse one button at a time, running his fingers and his mouth over the skin he bares. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” Steve growls, looking up at her from under his lashes as he licks over the curve of her breast where it rises above her red lace bra. She shivers, either from the touch of his tongue or the brush of his beard against her skin, and his eyes darken further, the pupils blowing wide and dark. 

“Bedroom,” she gasps, because if he keeps this up much longer she’s going to come just like this, pinned between his hard, muscular body and the wall. As hot as this is, she has to remember that it’s not real. That they’re doing this for a reason, not because they want to--but God, she wants to.

His grip tightens on her ass, the only warning she gets before he steps back and turns into the bedroom. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging as best she can as he carries her to the big, plush bed that she’s been sleeping in alone while he takes the couch in the living area.

He lets her slide slowly down his body until her feet touch the floor, his eyes hot and intent on hers. His hands spread wide and warm across her collarbone, pushing her blouse slowly down her arms to pool forgotten on the floor.

Darcy fists her hands in the hem of his polo shirt, tugging it upward. She has to stand on her tiptoes to get it up over his head, but he raises his arms obligingly, leaving all that taut, flexing muscle on display. Her mouth goes dry and she can’t resist the urge to touch, running her hands down his chest and over his abs until she comes up against the waistband of his jeans.

Steve’s hands gather her close again and he dips his head to kiss her, deep and hungry. It’s shockingly intimate, his bare chest against hers, the lace of her bra moving against her breasts. She wants his hands there, taking off her bra, lifting her breasts, soothing the ache in her nipples where they press hard against the fabric. But that’s not what they’re doing here; this is just pretend. She would feel more embarrassed about how obviously turned on she was if not for the obvious bulge under Steve’s jeans, the way she can clearly see that he’s just as affected as she is. 

His clever hands slide between them, thumbs hooking in the waistband of her leggings and pulling them downward. He has to break the kiss eventually, peeling the stretchy fabric down her legs until he’s kneeling at her feet, looking up at her hungrily, like he wants to eat her alive. Like this is really happening. Who knew Steve was such a good actor?

She pulls him back to his feet before she can think too much about it, undoing the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper carefully down. It turns out that Captain America wears boxer briefs, she notes with the part of her mind that she can’t seem to turn off, but then he’s shoving his jeans down to the floor, urging her back onto the bed and settling above her. 

_ Get the motion going, _ Hardison’s voice says in her mind, but then Steve leans down to kiss her again, his body pressing hers into the mattress, chasing every thought out of her mind except  _ yes _ and  _ please _ and  _ more _ . It’s so good--overwhelming, really--skin against skin everywhere, the weight and the heat of his body. His thick, hard cock between her legs, hot even through their underwear, pressing just, almost--she tips her hips up and moans as everything settles into place exactly where she wants it. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, rolling his hips down and grinding against her. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, sweetheart? Not gonna get that from anybody else. Just me.”

“Just you,” she agrees, her breath gasping out. “Fuck, Steve, please--”

He kisses her again, hard and fierce, lacing his fingers through hers and pressing them into the pillow on either side of her head. “Yeah, you’re mine. You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Go on, let me hear those pretty noises.”

Darcy can’t seem to stop moaning, the steady grind of his cock against her clit driving her higher and higher. “Please,” she breathes, not sure what she’s asking for, just knowing that she wants to ask. “Please, Steve, I’m so close, please, I need--”

He tugs the lace of her bra down with his teeth and only hesitates for a moment before he sucks her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. Pleasure zings through her like a lightning strike, fast and hard, and it only takes a few more moments before she shakes apart with the force of her orgasm, her back arching and her eyes sliding closed as she cries out.

Steve keeps moving, his breath coming faster and faster. She finally blinks her eyes open in time to see his fluttering shut, a dull red flush burning on his cheekbones, his plush, pink mouth falling slightly open. It only takes a few more movements before he stills above her, his whole body shaking. Darcy watches in awe until he collapses onto the bed next to her, pulling her close.

_ It’s for the cameras _ , she tells herself, resolutely shoving down the surge of warmth in her chest.  _ It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not real. He  _ said _ so. _

She can’t quite bring herself to believe it, even as she curses herself for being stupid.

* * *

“Welcome to Solin!” The flunky assigned to show them around hasn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Darcy’s breasts for more than two seconds since he greeted them at the door. She grips Steve’s arm a little harder and imagines him twitching on the floor, the prongs from her taser buried firmly in his chest. “If you’ll come this way, we can get started--”

Darcy lets herself sway a little harder into Steve, sucking in a breath. 

“Sweetheart?” he questions, stopping in the hall and turning to face her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she says, careful to make her tone sound otherwise. “I--” she breaks off with another indrawn breath and a quiet groan.

His hand comes up to feel her forehead. “You’re not okay. Do you feel sick? Could you have a fever?”

“No, no,” she hurries to say, glancing around at the others. She lowers her voice just enough to seem secretive while still ensuring the creepy flunky can hear. “It’s just--cramps. Maybe I could sit somewhere and wait while you have your tour?”

He takes her hand in his, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. “If you’re sure you don’t need to go back to the hotel and rest?”

Darcy can’t help but smile, even though she  _ knows _ he’s just playing a part. “I’m  _ fine _ ,” she says. “Just maybe I shouldn’t be walking all over. I’ll just slow you down.”

“Of course.” Steve turns to the creeper, who was somehow still managing to ogle her cleavage even with a vaguely repulsed look on his face. “Is there some place my wife can rest while we take the tour? Ms. Eliot can stay with her.”

“Sir,” Parker protests. “I’m an accountant, not a babysitter. How am I supposed to do my job if you’re leaving me behind?”

Steve sighs. “Maybe an office with a computer so Ms. Eliot can look at your numbers before we determine how much to invest?”

“Absolutely,” Creepy Flunky says, “Let me just show you ladies where to go, and I’ll be right back, sir.”

He gestures them down the hall, clearly leaving at least five feet between himself and Darcy at all times. She doesn’t dare meet Parker’s eyes or she’ll start giggling. Instead, she focuses on stopping every few moments to take a deep breath or lean against the wall for support.

The flunky is almost dancing with impatience by the time he shows them into an empty office, logs into the computer on the desk, and rushes out the door with one last look back at Darcy’s breasts.

“Nice work, ladies,” Hardison’s voice says in their ears. “Babe, go ahead and plug in that thing I gave you--”

“Got it,” Parker says, plugging a tiny dongle into the back of the computer before straightening up. “Let’s go steal a supersoldier assassin.”

* * *

“I am not cut out for this,” Darcy mutters, leaning against the stairwell wall and trying to control her racing pulse as Parker works her magic with the magnetic lock.

“You’re doing great,” Parker says absently, doing something arcane with the thing she’d used to connect her phone to the lock. “Anyway, you’re not here for the sneaking around. You’re here to help me with the computers once we get inside--there!”

The door slides slightly ajar with a quiet click and Parker gathers her tools, pulling it open further and gesturing Darcy inside. “All right,” she says, “We’ll find a computer and--”

“That might be a problem,” Darcy says, looking around the room.

“Well, shit.” Parker sighs.

“What?” Hardison asks. “Y’all gotta remember I can’t see what you see.”

Instead of answering, Parker holds up her phone and snaps a photo.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hardison says a moment later.

“Nope,” Darcy says, moving to the nearest file cabinet and reading the neatly typed labels on the drawers. “Looks like we’re going old school.”

* * *

“Got it!” Darcy says.

Parker materializes behind her, peering over her shoulder into the open file drawer. “Wow. All of those?”

“The Winter Soldier has been working for decades,” Darcy says absently, pulling the first file folder out of the drawer and opening it. “Even if they kept him in stasis between missions--” her mind shies away from the implications of that statement “--that’s still a lot of time. And Hydra likes to document shit. Probably because they started as a science division under the Nazis.”

“We’re not going to be able to scan all of those before the tour is over,” Parker says, running her fingers over the top of the files. “But how do we get them out?”

Darcy looks over at the file cart against the wall, then back at Parker. “I--might have an idea.”

* * *

Darcy breathes a little easier once the elevator doors close behind her. Despite the adrenaline surging through her veins, this is the most comfortable she’s felt in weeks, with her hair pulled back in a bun and the thick frames of Parker’s accountant glasses perched on her nose. Her feet still ache a little from the heels that she’d traded for Parker’s sensible shoes, but her toes can wiggle now. The hot, ditzy trophy wife always felt like a too-tight skin, but this? Being the slightly plain, slightly nerdy girl? This she can do. 

The elevator starts to slow, the familiar swooping sensation mingling with nerves in her stomach. “Showtime,” she whispers to herself, just before the doors open.

She wheels the cart off the elevator and heads off down the hall, letting her steps slow as she approaches the guard stationed near the outer door. She looks around, her eyes moving faster and faster.  _ Wait for it… _

“Can I help you, miss?” the guard asks.

Darcy lets herself jump a little. “I--oh, this is so dumb, I’m so dumb. I’ve only been down here once before, and my boss told me to take these out to the recycling bin out back? But I’ve already been wandering around for like 30 minutes and I don’t even know if this is where I need to go and if I take much longer I’m not going to get a lunch--”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, his eyes flicking over the employe badge Parker had produced from thin air and clipped onto her collar. “You’re in the right place; just head out these doors. They’re gonna lock behind you; you’ll need to use your badge to get back in, okay? Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, wow, thanks,” she babbles, waiting as he comes around the desk and holds the door open for her. “Seriously, uh, Jim, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, stepping back inside once she’s out the door. “Don’t worry, pretty soon you’ll get the hang of it. Just scan your badge there to unlock the door when you’re done.”

Darcy smiles back over her shoulder as she wheels the cart down the ramp. “Will do. Thanks again!”

She walks slowly until the door closes behind him, making her way toward the recycling bins next to the dumpster. “Cameras?” she asks under her breath.

“Already taken care of,” Hardison says cheerfully. “And I should be coming around the corner right about--now.”

True to his word, the van rounds the corner a few seconds later. Between the two of them, they make quick work of getting the files loaded inside. Less than ten minutes later they’re driving away.

“You sure you don’t want a job?” Hardison asks, glancing over at the passenger seat. “Cause you’re a natural. And I can make your student loans go poof.”

Darcy laughs shakily. “Tempting, but I don’t think I’m cut out for this level of excitement.”

“Well,” he says, waiting for the light to turn before pulling a left. “Offer’s open if you ever change your mind.”

* * *

“Won’t they get suspicious when they see that all their Winter Soldier files are gone?” Sam asks, picking up a file folder from the desktop before Hardison snatches it out of his hands.

“Man, that shit is fragile,” Hardison says, putting it gently back down. “Don’t be touching that without gloves and shit. Soon as it’s scanned it’s going into a climate-controlled archive.”

Sam raises his hands and backs away. “Sorry. But seriously, they’re gonna notice an empty file drawer eventually.”

“It’s not empty,” Parker says, setting her sandwich down. “It’s still full of files. Just, different files. Full of blank paper. And we took other stuff, too, so with any luck it’ll take them awhile to realize what all is gone.”

“Nice,” Sam says, offering his fist to Darcy, then Parker.

Parker bumps it, picks up her sandwich, and says casually, “Also, I may have introduced a termite colony into that file cabinet. Termites tunnel through paper. They really should have made digital backups.”

“That’s just evil,” Sam says admiringly.

“That’s my girl.” Hardison drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And let’s talk about Darcy’s fucking amazing plan for a second? She literally just walked the fuck out the door with the files! That shit is legendary.”

Steve tears his eyes away from the screen; he’s been watching the documents appear there as Hardison scans them. “Yes, good job,” he says quietly, giving Darcy a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

He looks...hollow. Worn down. Even though his face and his body are those of a man in his early twenties, it’s like Darcy can see the weight of the years since his birth. 

He hasn’t touched her, hasn’t looked at her since they met back at the brewpub. She always knew they’d go their separate ways after all this, but she hadn’t expected it to be so sudden. She definitely hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. She frowns down at her hands, but it takes her a minute to realize that her thumb is rubbing absently over the knuckles of her other hand where he’d kissed her. The last place he’d touched her.

“I need a drink,” she says to no one in particular.

“C’mon,” Eliot says, jerking his head toward the front room. “We got a new stout in the other day. I think you’ll like it.”

She follows him toward the bar and watches him draw the beer, taking a long sip when he passes it to her. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“Not especially,” she says, her eyes firmly on her glass. “I’m a big girl. I’ve had a crush on a guy who’s not interested in me before. I’ll get over it.”

“What makes you think I’m not interested?” Steve says.

Darcy closes her eyes for a minute, because of  _ course _ he was standing right behind her, what is her  _ life. _ She opens them again to glare at Eliot, but he just winks at her and passes a bottle of beer across the bar to Steve before vanishing into the back room.

They sit in silence for a minute, not looking at each other, before Steve clears his throat.”What makes you think I’m not interested?” he asks again.

“Steve,” she sighs, drawing patterns in the condensation on her glass. “You haven’t looked at me since we got back. You haven’t spoken to me. And I get it, after last night, things are a little awkward--”

“Last night--” he stops, clears his throat again. ”Last night was--you were pretending. For the cameras. I get that.”

She stares intently into her beer. Might as well go down in flames; it’s not like things can get  _ more _ awkward. “I really wasn’t,” she says quietly. “It--I wanted it to be real.”

Steve sucks in a sharp breath next to her, setting his beer down with a quiet clink. “Darcy,” he says hoarsely. “Can I--I really wanna kiss you.”

She forces her fingers to let go of the glass, forces herself to turn and look at him. Some part of her still believes that this isn’t real, that it’s a joke, but she can’t deny the aching sincerity in his eyes, the gentleness of his hand as it cups the side of her face.

“Can I?” he asks again.

Darcy nods, her heart racing. 

He leans in slowly, but it seems to take no time at all until his lips are pressing against hers, soft and slow. They’ve shared a lot of kisses over the past few weeks, but nothing like this. This is Steve Rogers, kissing Darcy Lewis. Not for a cover or a role. Not for pretend. Because they want to.

It’s almost enough to make her want to ignore the cheers from the back room. Almost.

Steve lifts his head, one corner of his mouth twisting up in a wry grin. “Our friends are assholes.”

“Yeah,” Darcy sighs, sliding her arms around his neck. “If only we had a hotel room where we could get away from them.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Why, Miss Lewis, that would be highly improper.”

She leans in, catching his earlobe between her teeth for a second. “You like it. Besides, I think you owe me a no-clothes orgasm. Or two.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, taking her hand and tugging her toward the front door.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery warning: The bad guys have bugs in their hotel room and Darcy and Steve have to pretend to have sex so as not to blow their cover. Neither of them tries really hard (or at all) to get out of it because they're both totally into each other and really really want to do it.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little romp! Comments and kudos also appreciated, and if you want to talk about Darcy, Steve, or the Leverage crew, feel free to come [yell at me on Tumblr](http://dizzy-redhead.tumblr.com).


End file.
